


Trophy Hunting

by dwarfmun



Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: Blood, Death, Eroguro, Ficlet, Gore, Knives, M/M, Oneshot, Snuff, Violence, yknow. the good shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:06:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29163132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwarfmun/pseuds/dwarfmun
Summary: The impostor leaves the best kill for last.
Relationships: Crewmate/Impostor (Among Us)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	Trophy Hunting

**Author's Note:**

> jelly - green, crown  
> rolph - cyan, ram horns  
> gloomy - black, dum
> 
> enjoy this self-indulgent goreporn :)

Rolph pretends he doesn't hear footsteps, or see a tall shadow grow on the wall in front of him. His heart cringes in his chest. He isn't the type to freeze when scared, but it's a convenient explanation for his tendency to go down easy. His hand floats steadily over the reactor control panel.

The unmistakable sound of the tip of a sharp knife dragging lazily against the chamber wall makes Rolph's shoulders scrunch up to his ears. He grips the touch-pad and locks his jaw, trying desperately not to look... well, desperate.

But he is desperate. Jelly has been saving him for last. First Gloomy went down, the cleverest of the team, the hardest to outwit, in the dead center of the cafeteria, his body slumped against the closed emergency button case. A power play. The rest, on edge and with no leads, were picked off one by one - never chased, never the wiser, in broad daylight and perfect, terrible execution. The long hallways would go dark or a door would slam shut, and one member of the pack would suddenly find themselves alone, except for the glint of a golden crown out of the corner of their eye.

Rolph had his suspicions, but this wasn't Jelly's usual style. He was dramatic, sure, but also usually opportunistic, too occupied by bloodlust to be this meticulous, this intentional. By the time he figured out that Jelly was trophy hunting and he was the prize kill, he was the only one left alive.

He must be planning something big.

"It's you," Rolph says, his voice echoing in the empty room.

Jelly yanks the knife from the wall and carves out one last shrill _shhhing._ Rolph's knees go weak.

"It's me," Jelly says, with an audible smile.

"Why'd you keep me waiting?" Rolph breathes. He's bracing himself on the control pad now.

Jelly steps closer. Rolph can see his distorted reflection in the glass reactor core chamber. Bloodsoaked, red handprints on his arms from struggling victims, long machete in hand.

"A treat," Jelly replies, close enough to whisper. "For both of us."

Rolph shouts as his fluffy ponytail is twisted up in Jelly's fingers and yanked hard. His arms flail out looking for something to catch his fall, but Jelly jams the toe of his boot into the back of Rolph's knee and his legs buckle out from under him.

He crashes to his knees. They collide with the solid titanium floor and the brutal shock of pain that tears across his bones makes his lungs seize up. The headache from having his hair ripped up compounds, now flashing white at the edges of his vision.

He finally rakes in a breath, lightheaded from fear and agony. He lets out a little cry, encouraging, submissive.

Jelly screeches his trademark cackle. He's snuffed Rolph lots of times - some were sloppy, some precise, some funny, some intimate - but Rolph was in awe of Jelly's cartoonishly sadistic delight in it every time. It made him feel a lot less silly for his cartoonishly masochistic delight in getting murdered.

He feels the point of the knife tease his back, and his heart flutters. Everything in his body hurts for one reason or another, but as the knife bites through his cyan suit and threatens to break his skin, the sting fills up his head. His mouth hangs open and a low purr drips from it.

"There's my favorite little victim," Jelly says sweetly, adoringly, like a lullaby. Then, like a wolf, "I'm going to destroy you."

Rolph whimpers. Jelly twists the knife, only a few centimeters of skin twisting with it, but it hurts enough to make Rolph hiss. It's torn through too much flesh to still be freshly sharp; his skin resists as Jelly pushes it in, but the knife wins in the end, sliding several inches cleanly into the thick flesh of his lower back.

The pain is mindbending. Despite the deep blush on his face, he screams in visceral agony, tears forming immediately in his eyes. He's just lucid enough to revel in his own panic. He feels the cold edge of the knife as it sinks into the wound, and the strange and wonderful ache of having a foreign object deep inside your body where things aren't supposed to be. Rolph is shaking and drooling, but not broken, until Jelly grips his hair and shoves the long knife in all the way up to the hilt in one fell heave. Grinding through muscle, organs, and muscle again, then finally bursting from his stomach.

Rolph looks down. Shock only barely keeps him from fainting. His heartbeat is enough to move the blade inside him and it explodes in pain all over again at every tiny push. The knife and the mess it's made look so gorgeous. His breathing gets shallower as blood fills his lungs, and he tries to focus on the lovely details; the blade slick with his blood, Jelly panting in his ear, his strength burning its last reserves, the smell of fresh gore and electricity. A broken shriek rings in the reactor room as Jelly yanks the machete out the way it came.

Jelly pulls Rolph's twitching body onto its back by the ruined nest of his hair. His head clangs on the floor, and his arms drop listlessly to his sides. He chokes on blood, turning weakly onto his side and splattering it on the cold floor.

Jelly towers over him. He kicks Rolph in his bloodsoaked stomach, forcing him back over.

Rolph can only manage a weak cry before his voice is drowned by blood, his chest betraying his ruined body and swelling with adoration.

"Goodnight, my darling," Jelly says, and buries his boot heel-first in Rolph's ribcage, crushing what's left of his lungs and destroying his heart.

Rolph's spirit peels away from his body. He shakes his weightless head, squinting against the dizziness that comes with crossing into a different plane. He peers around to get his bearings; he must have died, or else the ceiling wouldn't be this close. He drifts in a circle, taking in the room, and finally sees his own body on the ground.

He claps his hands over his incorporeal mouth. The memory rushes back to him, and he does his best to stifle the smitten squeal he can't help but make. The whole thing was so dreamy... Jelly really outdid himself this time.


End file.
